Lonely Life

TRAMPS LONELY LIFE

Inaccessible, cold, clamminess greeted me,
The house at least had a roof.
I searched hard and long where could an entrance be.

A half broken shutter I spied to my right,
My gnarled hands began to work fast.
Soon my feet touched dusty boards; there was only little light.

A broken painting I stare at with wonder,
I'm absorbed, infatuated with that face.
Maybe this was the owner, maybe I ponder.

A half eaten roll makes an adequate snack,
Washed down with a drop of coke.
Huddled in a corner, I try to sleep covered in an old dirty sack.

Shimmers of light wake me shivering and damp,
The house at least had sizable room.
Here I will stay a recluse forever,
My lonely life as a tramp.